Severance Snape
by theclassicpotato
Summary: Severus Snape gets a second chance at life, a chance to fix all his past mistakes, a chance to save Lily. Only problem is he's going to have to wear a dress. Major AU. Rated M for language use and possible future situations.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This will be my first published story, go easy on me guys. I am aware that I am bad at spelling, formatting and the basic English language. So I apologize if there are words or sentences that don't make sense.**

 **These are JK Rowling's toys, I'm just playing with them. I OWN NOTHING.**

I am dying. I can feel the pain that Nagini inflicted on me, my life slipping away. I am not afraid of my death, I am afraid I have failed. I failed Lily. I could have done more… I should have done more.

Then he was there, the physical copy of the person I hated growing up. Harry Potter. A slew of memories hit me, all of them of me growing up. His eyes are Lily's. Merlin... Lily. Her kid was right in front of me and I can't save him. Just like I couldn't save her. Harry collected the tears of a dying man, my tears. A man with no more reason to live. The reason I lived for would be dying soon. There is no point.

I wish I could have saved her. I would do it all over, if I could only save her. I'm sorry Lily. I wish...

The earliest memory I have was when I four, wandering around the Snape house. I rounded a corner to our kitchen and there in the corner of the room staring out the lone window was the tall figure of my mother. I walked closer, probably to get her attention. It was raining, and the soft thuds of the water hitting the window pane calmed my uncertainty at her stillness. the sun took that moment to shine through the clouds and hit my mum. Throwing her darkened form into the soft light of the sun streaming in through the window, I saw each tangle of pitch black hair matted to her scalp, her porcelain skin shimmered in the soft light as tears fell down into her sunken cheeks. Her lips were worried down and scabbed. Her eyes were closed and her features clouded in pain, a dark purple bruise stood stark out against the paleness of her neck. my first memory was of my mother crying for the man who hurt her.

Tobias Snape. My father.

You are probably wondering why? Why tell this depressing dismal little tale of your first memory? Well, I only mention this because here I stand in the middle of the Snape kitchen looking at that same woman. The same woman who died in 1977, Eileen Snape, my mother.

My first thought, as I gazed at her thin shoulders heaving from her silent cries was _This is Impossible._ This is **impossible.** She is dead, _**I**_ am _**DEAD.**_ It feels as if I am trapped by my past. Trapped by my memories.

 _ **How? Is this my eternal punishment?**_

I am not a stupid person, in fact I consider myself above average intelligence. So the only conclusion my mind was coming to. The only reason that made any sense-

"Oh, I'm sorry darling. Mummy's not having a good day. You will have lessons at a different time." The proper lady like voice came from my mother, a voice that brought back thousands of memories at their cadence, but yet sounded so foreign. Her face clouded over as she looked at me. her eyes darkening in sadness as she gazed at me. I had a the feeling that this was not the adverse effects of a potion or a curse. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I stared at the impossible picture.

"Severance? Darling, go and play."

Severance…? not once has she ever messed up my name, not even after her years of abuse had she ever called me anything less than Severus. I felt my face fall into the familiar setting of my trade mark sneer, I was confused and highly uncomfortable at the situation; but I would be damned if I let her know that. She turned back toward the window, missing the look of complete spitefulness on my face. I was hurt that she would mess up on my name, even though this wasn't real…

That ruled out several things. This wasn't a memory spell then. It felt too real to be a memory. Maybe it is a figment of my imagination, not a magic memory occurrence. If i was not taken to Madam Pomfrey immediately after Nagini's bite then I could be suffering from acute blood loss.

You would think that my mind would at least produce a correct hallucination of my own mother.

I turned to leave the room, and hopefully, enter into a new memory. This one was sadly lacking. I jumped as I felt something brush against my bare legs. I looked down in horror and confusion because decorating my body was not the sight of black billowing robes that I was used too, no it was a blue monstrosity. It was tight on my chest where there was frilly little white lace which wouldn't be so bad (for a clown), except it was paired with blue cotton that swung around tiny bare feet.

I'm in a dress.

 _ **Why**_ the _**fuck**_ am _**I**_ in a _**dress**_?

I held out my arms and turned my hands around in front of my eyes, hoping it was all just an illusion. My hands had none of the calluses that came from years of working with potions and waving around my wand. I rubbed my hand up my bare arm, the arm that had- that should have had a long raised scar from where Voldemort used my own spell against me. If that is not there... I turned my wrist over, the wrist which I took every pain not to look at, and I brushed small fingers over the mark less pale skin. There was no dark mark… _That_ is impossible. I researched for years on how to get rid of it, scoured every library available to me for a spell, curse or a potion just to get it vanished from my skin. Just so that there wasn't a constant reminder of my utter betrayal.

My eyes went back to my small hands, childlike hands. An aging potion wouldn't get rid of The Mark, the calluses or my scars. The potion was aptly named in that it only aged you (or in this case, DE age you) it did not erase the scars.

I felt a rock slide down my throat and lodged itself in my stomach, my mind scrambling for a logical conclusion was leaving me queasy which I tried to push down on.

My name is not Severance. I do not wear dresses. I do not have The Dark Mark or my scars. This is not adding up.

This must be a curse or spell. There is no potion that I know of that would cause such a real hallucination for an extended period of time. I am sure I can wait this out. This is not reality.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: YAY! Second chapter. As this is my first time posting, the chapters are a little short. They will get longer eventually. Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed and followed my story, it means a lot!**

THREE DAYS LATER…

Three. days. later.

Three. Days.

It's. been. THREE. DAYS.

And I'm still stuck in this cursed rendition of my childhood. What did I do to deserve THIS? I assumed I would be going to hell... I was 100% positive that I would be burning along side with Bellatrix, not stuck in this purgatory of my past as a **LITTLE GIRL**.

I have been forced to accept the impossible. That this is not the byproduct of a curse, spell or potion. Three days, and every single moment down to the last second, is burned into my head. Three days living in a time I was sure I had gotten past. Some things are the same, my mother and… My father. They have not changed- physically at least. My surroundings have, this is not spinner's end. Though the kitchen looked similar, it is not the same house I grew up in. It bigger and cleaner (thanks to a maid, I never had before). It appears that my family now has money, which is a big difference from my past. The biggest difference, that I've still yet to get used to, is that I'm now a little girl (Potter would have a field day with that information I'm sure).

It is little wonder that I snapped. Being put back in my past, reminded me why I hated my life in the first place. The fact that we were doing better financially than in my memories meant nothing. Money means nothing more than nicer clothes, better food and a tutor instead of time with my mum. Money means we didn't live in spinner's end. Money means my mother was better at hiding her pain and my father was better at hiding where he hit her. Money means instead of my mother fighting for me, she let the nannies and tutors do the fighting. Money meant that I was neither seen nor heard of.

I developed a deep hatred of money in those three days. Because it seemed as though my life this time would be worse than the first all because we had money. I didn't think my life _could_ have been worse growing up. It appears I was very wrong. I remember I used to dream of all the things money could accomplish, I never thought that dream would turn into a nightmare.

The few things I thought would be a blessing have turned out far worse.

So I stole scissors. It was very childish of me. I regretted it almost instantly, it was such a Gryffindor thing to do. Yet I felt this intense need to strike out against my situation, yet I couldn't. I couldn't tell anyone without them thinking i went mad. So I resorted to petty childish acts.

 _ **If**_ I'm stuck in this version of reality I was determined to not have hair longer then my body. I was determined. If I had to be a girl, I refused to deal with headache inducing hair that wanted to get caught on everything and was a pain to brush at night without the help of magic. I can suffer through the etiquette classes, and the dresses but I was not putting up with this hair. So stealing the scissors was the first step. The second was finding a bathroom undetected. Both of these steps were pathetically easy for a former wizard spy who fooled the dark lord. Twice.

That is where I am currently. Glaring at the dark headed child in the mirror. Her facial expression looked off. The dark scathing look, looked misplaced on the face of the little girl. Her black eyes held more contempt than a four year old's eyes should hold. Those eyes were my eyes, the only feature that reminded me of the past me. They looked ancient. Her little lips contorted into a scowl, and a dimple stood out on her right cheek. It made the little girl's eyebrows twitch in fury. Because despite how much I was trying to be intimidating, it was just coming off as pathetic.

And that was about to change because if Severus Snape, former death eater, potion master, professor and headmaster of Hogwarts is going to be anything at all, pathetic is not one of them.

I grabbed my hair with one hand making the long mess of black strands into one black tail and with the other with hand lifted the scissors .

"MISS SNAPE! !" The loud screech made the scissors fall from my hand and clatter onto the floor while I jumped into the air. Drat. What type of death eater was I? Jumping at a silly muggle nanny, I deserve a cruciatus.

 _No. If this is some rendition of my past, I'm not a death eater yet, and If I have any choice in the matter, I will never be again._ A dark voice whispered deep inside my head

I glared at the reflection of my nanny, her blonde hair was cut as short as a boys. Her big spectacles rested on her nose magnifying her watery blue eyes. Her hands rested as fists on her pink dress, showing she was not amused.

"Well?! Am i going to get an explanation?" My glower deepened at her tone. I _WAS NOT_ a child to be spoken to like that. I was a fully grown man trapped in an infant's body.

"Don't be a dunderhead, Mrs. Kyle. I was obviously cutting my hair." I said this in the same seething way i have done a million times before to idiotic children who fail at making a simple pepper up potion. My sneer in place as I turned to scowl up at the blonde, black hair swinging. I was quite proud of my composure, but then again I **have** been in worse scrapes than dealing with an angry muggle.

Her big blue eyes, that were flashing with indignation not but a second ago along with her pink lips drawn down in displeasure switched to fighting off amusement. _She was laughing at me_?

"Why would you do that miss Snape?" My glare deepened as she tried to contain her humor.

"I don't like it." I growled out, in my typical fashion. With barely contained anger. She coughed to cover her giggle and dropped to her knees. I was momentarily pleased she dropped down to my level, looking up was giving me a kink in my neck.

Her hands touched my shoulders to make me look at her. I didn't like that. I don't like being touched… after so many years of being in the presence of people who only want you harmed it wasn't much of a surprise that I jerked away from her. Her eyes darkened momentarily but then flashed back to amusement. She didn't let me go, and since I was but in the form of a weakling child I couldn't pull away "why ever not? You have the most beautiful black hair I have ever seen."

I frowned. It was much nicer than my previous tangled greasy hair that seemed to cause most of my more unique nicknames than others can boast about. I looked into her big blue eyes and I felt a connection with her. I felt I knew this woman, but I cannot for the life of me, remember her.

"Because." I drawled out. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at how small I sounded. How weak that voice was. I glared internally. It is not like I could tell her I was uncomfortable. I was not a complainer in my last life, I wouldn't be in this one as well. I was however dramatic, and obviously that has not changed.

"Well you are a girl, miss Snape, so I am afraid you will have to live with your long hair." She laughed, her whole face lighting up as she tugged on a corner of my dress. Her laughing made her look younger, it made her look like she was in her early 20s. When she must have been at least in her 30s.

"It is my head. If I want it cut, it should be cut. I don't answer to you." I seethed. I hated being questioned. Is it not enough that I went through childhood once, I must go through this torture again?

"Too true, young miss. I completely agree." She grinned mischievously pointing at her short hair. I almost let a smirk escape at getting my way. If she cut my hair if would look much better, cutting it with my clumsy toddling hands could have had disastrous turn.

She stood in a fluid motion picking me up as she did. It was not the first time someone had picked me up in my three days in this purgatory, and I doubted it would be the last time either. But that did not mean I had to like it, the closeness of another human being felt strange. I remember times I would have killed for a kind touch, and since I have come to this hell it seems that's all anyone ever does. Pats my head, hugging me, picking me up, tugging on my hair, kissing my cheeks, someone is always touching me. It is beyond unnerving.

"But, miss Snape, being a girl isn't so bad. Especially if you are a pretty young lady like yourself. " she informed me. I felt a split second of confusion as she picked up the scissors and then walked out of the bathroom and into the expensively decorated hallway. She wasn't going to cut it? Was she even listening to me?

I scrunched my nose up "pretty?"

Severus Snape was not pretty.

Severus Snape was a dour dark old man.

He is **not** pretty. _I am not pretty_

"Yes, Miss Snape, you are very pretty. And I dare say you will grow into a gorgeous woman one day as well. But as a young woman of good standing, you have standards that must be met. Appearances that must be kept. You wouldn't want to bring your father into social ruin... I was thinking of starting with dance today. How does that sound?" She talked absentmindedly as she took me to the playroom at the end of the hallway, second door on the right. Or as I like to call it, the room of boredom that I was tutored in. I rolled my eyes and looked away from the ignoramus who wouldn't even listen to me.

"I would love that." I smiled at this information. A genuine smile, that I'm sure made my face look less like I was being escorted to the gallows and more like I just discovered that the dark lord had perished in a vengeful and bloody death by a gang of puppies. Mrs. Kyle stopped mid step her water blue eyes seemed transfixed on my smile. Poor Mrs. Kyle thought I was talking about ballet that I was being forced to do. I was speaking about bringing absolute social ruin to the man that would one day kill my mother.

Mrs. Kyle kept chattering, as she went up the steps, I ignored her. I was already plotting how to bring destruction to daddy dearest. If I was trapped in this strange past, I was going to change some things. First step, cut hair. The woman who held me continued to speak, her eyes flashing to me, blue met black and I startled as a memory hit me.

 _An older woman with short blond hair a spattering of grey ran throughout her locks, a telling sign that she had lived far longer than she deserved. Watery blue eyes tightly shut as a pain filled scream was ripped from her mouth. I grinned darkly, and forced more power into my curse making the muggles scream echo darkly around the little wooden room. This room did not benefit the dark lord, he deserved grander things than this little cottage, alas we wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for this muggle filth.._

" _Very good Severus, end it now." The commanding voice, the whisper of drawn out vowels, the sound of the dark lord behind me made me shiver. Half in fear at his power and the other in hope that he would see me as worthy to join his cause_. _How it would prove all those at Hogwarts wrong, they would see, I am worth something. If not to them, then at least to the dark lord._

 _I immediately stopped my cutting curse, and the watery blue eyes of the older woman flickered open. Hope surged up in their depths as tears trailed down her pale cheeks. Her eyes connected with mine, and for the split second our eyes locked, I saw my reflection. The dark stranger, no older than her own son who laid dead behind her, the dark greasy hair and snaggle toothed mouth… The man in her eyes looked every bit the murderer._

 _Little did the woman know that she would be my first. And little did everyone know that in that split second before a green light flashed forward, that I wished for things to be different._

"Are you alright Miss Snape?" The worried voice of the woman who held me, the worried face of a woman I had tortured.

I looked into her watery blue eyes and I realized… I had killed this woman.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for reading!**

 _One Year Later_

A whole year as a girl, and despite our expansive library I can find no reason as to how it happened. I huffed and blew some of my bangs out of my face as I scowled down at the useless book.

"Little Miss?" A deep voice called from the door to the Snape's family household's library. Luckily there was a bookshelf blocking Nanny number 11s view of me. I quickly ducked behind the puffy chair I was sitting on, mentally wishing I had a wand to cast a disillusionment spell.

I had no desire to commit myself to- I checked my wristwatch for the time, 3:00pm- etiquette class. I would much rather concentrate on my books then on how to greet someone who you don't like without being rude. Apparently it's all with the eyes, I was a natural at it. At least that is is what my tutor says.

"Little Miss I know you are here." I scowled as the deep voice drawled out. I knew that beyond this chair was number 11, all dressed up in his idiotic suits. His brown hair was peppered with grey, his black eyes calculating behind his specs. He had the timeless quality that wizards seemed to have, pinpointing an age for him would be impossible. But I guessed in his late 60s. I haven't been able to get into Mum's potion room in the past three weeks, i think i am going through withdrawls. "I don't remember Miss Snape ever being afraid."

I rolled my eyes at his obvious manipulation. But still stood. Mostly because I was Severus Snape, and Severus Snape does not hide behind chairs and neither would Severance.

"Number 11. " I hissed. My arms crossing over my green dress (I was currently refusing to wear any other colour, just to spite my father who hates green. Plus it reminds me of my house, Slytherin) as I looked up, and up, into Number 11's face. Number 11 was tall and very intimidating. but not nearly as frightening as the Dark Lord (Then again, Number 11 doesn't pull out his wand and Crusio me when I anger him), so I kept this man's black eyed stare with my own as I climbed back onto the chair in the most un-ladylike why possible.

"Mrs Flounder informed me you didn't show up to class. A lady's etiquette is just as important as the lady's magic." I raised an eyebrow as he chastised me and threw a long black strand of my insufferable hair over my shoulder. I laid back in the chair, relaxing.

Idiotic Nanny Wizard number 11. He was supposed to be the best money can buy, according to my parents. Their last hope to turn their wayward child into a presentable young lady. And also the first wizard nanny. I felt a scowl tugging at my lips, if i hadn't lost control of my magic, i wouldn't even need a magical nanny.

I refused. I am not a girl. Well I am, but not on the inside. On the inside I'm 100% grown man. I refused to bow to their wishes, I am my own person. I would not grovel and beg to live my own way anymore, I will fight for it. I spent a lifetime groveling and begging in my past, and look how that turned out? So I really didn't like it when he cast a full body cast charm on me and picked me up. The bastard probably heard all about the last Nanny that picked me up. I may or may not have used wandless magic, consequently breaking his nose, and consequently getting Nanny number 11.

"when are you going to quit Number 11?" I growled out, breaking his precarious hold on me. I tried to squirm to get away but he just cast the spell once more.

"Never. Get used to me little Miss. I plan on being the one thing in your life that never changes." I scowled at his hissed words. Someone was on their last straw today, he didn't usually snap at me.

I know I have been acting childish. It's funny though, being aware of it hasn't stopped me. It's like this childish brain of mine has all these old memories of my old life, but it's still new so it acts out in disturbing ways. Like putting glue in number 11's toothbrush. Definitely not something a potion master would do, but I didn't even think of that till after it happened. My feelings over power my thoughts in this body, and mostly my thoughts are dark and disturbing. In the end I'm left with three facial expressions- glare, scowl, and pout.

Yes, I'm pouting right now.

I'm aware that Severus Snape doesn't pout, but my feelings don't really care about that. I'm upset that I haven't gotten my way, and I can't do anything about that. Ergo, the pouting. Severance Snape pouts.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously as soon as the spell wore off again, i didn't try to get out of his hold as I had noted we were going the opposite direction of my cursed playroom.

"Out. A child shouldn't be cooped up in this-this… house." Number 11 said that in a way that made me almost positive he knew more about the going ons of the home then he seemed to let on.

I was secretly pleased, so I didn't comment on the fact that I wasn't allowed out. I hadn't been out since nanny number four. We had a slight incident where I made my way to the police station and told them my father was abusive. My father of course had connections, so it was swept under the rug and I was gifted with a new nanny and new restrictions. Like a permanent place in the house till wizard school. But outside… I missed the freedom. In my past whenever I needed to leave the house, I could. If I needed to leave Hogwarts, I could. I could always leave the dark lord, I wouldn't get far, but I could leave. I missed being able to have a choice.

I was silent as he set me down in our living room. I stood still and looked up at him expectantly as he crouched and pulled out silver shoes that were hidden in his suit jacket's pocket. He grabbed my feet one by one and placed the shoes on. "We are going to apparate, have you ever done this with your mother?" His deep voice was serious and stern. I nodded once. It was a bald face lie, **I** had apparated before. But that was in my past. He slipped a pale coloured jacket on my shoulders and he knelt and buttoned me up. I tried to hold in my frown at him doing something I was capable of. It got on my nerves, but I didn't want to do anything that would have him resending his invitation of getting out of the house.

"Okay. Hold my hand." I grabbed his hand, my small grip dwarfed in his big calloused hold. "You ready?"

I nodded once more and then I was sucked through the small familiar hole that feels like claustrophobia in the extreme.

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to dispel the feeling of nausea. Number 11's face looked me over in concern, before determining that I wasn't going to throw up. I looked around in slight surprise, Diagon Alley. I was definitely never taken here as a child more than twice and that was just to get ingredients to replenish our potion making stock. Number 11's hand wrapped back around mine and he dragged me down the slightly busy cobblestone street for the mid afternoon on a sunny saturday of early august.

"Is there a certain place you would like to go?" Number 11' asked curiously as he walked slowly down the street.

I immediately perked up, and practically blurted out, "Books!" I coughed to try and regain my composure and then said as calmly as I could (while ignoring the slight smile of my nanny), "-I uh. I mean, I would like to go look at the books."

"Alright. Books it is then. I was sure you would rather go to… say a joke shop. Freshen up your dismal skills in pranking, but if you _want_ to spend the whole day wasted in a boring old dusty book shop who am I to say anything." He shrugged, then smoothed down his fancy suit. Why would a nanny even wear a suit? I rolled my eyes as he blatantly tried to manipulate me. A first year Slytherin would have more success at getting me to admit that I hate the colour black then this nimwit has of trying to trick me into going into a joke shop. I ignored his obvious ploys, and dragged him into Flourish and Blotts. I immediately dropped his hand and began scouring the bookshelves for any mention of what had happened to me.

I may have accepted that this is my new reality, I might even be okay with it. It gives me chance to change the unwelcomed future. It may not be in the way I would have originally wanted to, but I will change it nonetheless. The only thing I have a problem with is the fact I don't know HOW it happened. I do not want to be doomed to live this existence for a third time, so I was left with one thing to do, research.

Number 11 dragged me away from the book store an hour later, complaining that a child needs to eat. I was not fooled. The man was bored to tears sitting in the store doing nothing but watching me be absorbed in books that no five year old should be able to read. At least he let me buy the book I was reading before dragging me off to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. I can honestly say I had only ever been in the brightly coloured room with Lily and my godson. Lily wanted to try Wizard ice cream and see if it was better than the muggles.

It was mostly the same, just more flavors and an inti- melting charm. Lily was disappointed. Draco, who wasn't allowed sweets, was not disappointed.

"So what's your favorite flavor, Miss Snape?" Number 11 asked cheerily, I glowered at the man as he ruffled his brown hair and scanned the sign with the dreadfully long list of different flavors. He frowned at the sign and then looked down at me expectantly. I sighed and tugged his hand into the small line. We waited patiently behind a boy and his father who were having a very serious debate on chocolate vs strawberry. I ignored the argument and pulled open the tomb I was looking at in the bookstore. Number 11 rose an eyebrow at the title of my book _The Different Magical Belief Systems on Life After Death_ by Edna Tooly. Great, he was most likely going to hold an intervention on the basis that i liked to read dark books about death. I sighed (once more, just for effect) and began paging through the book, ignoring the incredulous stares i was getting.

"Hello? Um, hellllllooooooo? 'ello?" I sighed and dragged my eyes from the definition of rigor mortis and straight up into eyes that I could have done without seeing ever again.

 _ **JAMES POTTER**_ my mind was screaming in anger, not surprising since the last time I saw the man alive he was taunting me. Like always. Of course he would be here. Why wouldn't he be? It's not like I didn't go through enough. Dying painfully after seven long years of saving this assholes dunderheaded son, only to walk into an ice cream parlor in my SECOND life and run across this- this- asshole. Given, he looks about as threatening as a baby, with his big hazel eyes hidden behind his idiotic spectacles and of course it wouldn't be a Potter if his hair wasn't the usual unruly dark brown. Somethings don't change.

"What?" I seethed. I felt a hand place itself on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. I hauled my glare upwards from the hazel eyes of Potters to meet Number 11's darker eyes. He was practically screaming in my head (if only legilimens allowed that ) to behave myself.

"Strawberry or chocolate? I like strawberry, I think it's the best in The Whole Wide _World._ Chocolate is so plain and boring, though it does taste good on strawberries. My mom says the only reason I loves strawberries so much is because it's my favorite colour. Red. It's my favorite. My name is James Potter by the way, this is my fath-." He is as conceited as I remember. No one actually thinks Strawberry is the best in the whole wide world, but of course only his opinion matters. Know it all gryffindor. I was saved from snarking out an answer to his obscenely long monologue as the line moved forward in the middle of his introduction and he was forced to order with his father who surprisingly didn't have the unruly mop of hair I had figured was a male hereditary trait as he was shockingly bald.

It was our turn next and I told Number 11 that I wanted a small plain chocolate ice cream as loud as I could, in the hope that Potter would hear. I grabbed the chocolate cone with one hand and went and sat down with my book at one of the many tables, I didn't look up to see if Number 11 had followed.

"Is that your dad? He doesn't look like you very much." I glanced up and saw the unruly mop and I let out a groan of pain. How is it that 5 year old Potter is more annoying than the one who stole the woman I loved? Ignoring the little demon wasn't working, maybe if I answered he would go away. I looked for number 11, and then glared when I found him chatting with Potter senior at the table across from us.

"He is my nanny," I said briskly. I died a bit inside as my plan went horribly wrong and he sat down next to me with his strawberry ice cream dripping messily down his hand. I felt disgust welling up in my body as I watched the light pink drops slide down his grubby little hands. How is it even melting? It has an _**ANTI**_ _**MELTING**_ charm placed on every cone. I know this because I had taken Draco to get ice cream here before and I made sure of this very fact. It was like watching a horror movie (I have seen a horror movie before) as the drip moved toward his brown slacks.

Potter laughed at that information. 5 years old isn't too young to murder, is it?

"A nanny?! Only babies have nannies. Doesn't your mom take care of you? Where is your dad?" Apparently the phrase 'ignore it and it will go away' does not apply to a chatty five year old, "Do you have any siblings? You still haven't told me your name. What are you reading? That looks super boring. It doesn't have pictures or anything? What's it about? Answeeeer me. Oh I see, it's a grown up book. Are you smart or something? Nerd. I only read books about quidditch, they have pictures. Is this book about quidditch?"

I was doing a successful job at ignoring the incessant questions with my head hidden in my book. I was calm and collected as he rattled on, until I saw a pink covered hand reach into my view. I stood suddenly, my chair scraping against the floor in my haste to get my new book away from the messy child. Book clutched tightly to my chest (in the off chance that he tries to touch my pages again), I leaned in close to the young Potter, my nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell of his melted strawberry ice cream wafted upwards.

"It is about death. Which is what you will be if you touch my things, Potter." I growled quietly, and then with a flip of my long hair I left the Ice cream shop without a glance backwards. I felt the hand of Number 11 as it pulled me to a stop. I looked up at the man, my anger still simmering just below the surface.

"You shouldn't run off without me, you could get lost or hurt. " He lectured as he pushed up his square glasses. I rolled my eyes, I wouldn't get lost and I would pity anyone who tried to come at me right now.

"I am ready to go home now." I remarked as I tightened my hold on my book and shrugged his hand off my shoulder. Memories are a funny thing. The spring up on you, and hit you with all the feelings, you felt. Leaving Potter, walking out… I did that alot in school, walking away. It never stopped them from tormenting me.

"You don't see a lot of children your age. Did you like your chat with the young mister Potter? I went to school with his dad, 'Course he was a fifth year when i started, but he was kind to me. " He recalled with a soft smile. I rolled my eyes, all Potters were in gryffindor. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if it turns out my Nanny was one as well.

"Take me home." I demanded, my hand wrapping itself on his coat sleeve. I didn't fancy running into Potter a second time today and considering we were standing in front of the Ice cream shop the likelihood of that happening increased by the second.

He seemed unsure, but grabbed my hand that was wrapped up in his jacket and apparated us home.


End file.
